


Better

by pinkish



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anxiety, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Possibly Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-28 18:37:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3865456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkish/pseuds/pinkish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean notices Cas is anxious, and it sparks a conversation Cas has been trying to figure out how to have (and if he wants to have it -- if he wants to know for sure what the consequences will be) for a long time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better

Dean watched as Cas fidgeted at the table. He was sitting silently, but he was rubbing the skin between his forefinger and thumb. Dean would have said he was doing it absentmindedly, but Cas wasn't doing anything else. Just sitting there, stroking his hand, and occasionally frowning. Dean mirrored the action, briefly, to see what it felt like, but couldn't figure out why Cas was doing it.  
  
Dean must have made a noise because Cas looked his way and furrowed his brow as if to ask what Dean was doing staring at him.  
  
"You alright, Cas? You look a million miles away."  
  
"If I were, you’d hardly be able to see me," Cas furrowed his brow further, and Dean was about to correct him when he saw the corner of Cas's mouth curve up into a smirk.  
  
Dean rolled his eyes, "Very funny, Cas."  
  
"Yes, I am quite good at jokes, now. Did I tell you the one about--"  
  
"Yes," Dean interrupted before Cas could launch into one of the horrible jokes Metatron had dropped into his brain.  
  
"But--"  
  
"I've heard them all, Cas. And stop trying to change the subject."  
  
Cas sighed, and looked away from Dean. "I'm okay, Dean."  
  
"Yeah, real convincing."  
  
Cas laughed a short, quiet laugh. "It's hard to explain, Dean. I barely understand what I'm feeling...I don't even know how to begin explaining it to someone else."  
  
Cas had started rubbing his hand harder and Dean couldn't stop himself from reaching out and placing his hand over Cas's.  
  
"Start with this, maybe." Cas raised an eyebrow at Dean, silently asking for clarification. "Why do you rub your hands like this?"  
  
"I..." Cas sighed again, frustrated this time. "I don't know..."  
  
Dean kept silent, watching as Cas struggled to find the words.  
  
"It is comforting. I don't know why or how, but I am comforted by it. When I feel-- when I feel things that make me sad, upset, frustrated, anxious-- it grounds me. Reminds me that I am here, that I am real."  
  
Dean snatched his hand back, afraid that he'd made it difficult, more difficult than Cas deserved, for Cas to comfort himself, but as he did Cas flinched. Slowly, waiting for a shake of a head, a denial, a no, Dean moved his hand towards Cas's again until Cas's repetitive movements slowed to something less frantic, less urgent.  
  
"Is this..." Dean couldn't decide what word he was reaching for -- okay? Good? Comforting? Allowed? But he didn't need to finish the sentence -- Cas was nodding before he had to decide.  
  
They stayed silent together for a few moments, listening to each other breathe. Cas tensed when he heard Dean's breath hitch, as he sensed Dean readying himself to say something else, sure that it would be a denial of the intimacy they were experiencing.

“Is it something I did?”

Cas almost believed that he’d imagined the question. If it weren’t for the fact that Dean’s face had turned scarlet and he wouldn’t meet Cas’s eyes, he would have ignored the question, assuming that his mind (his traitorous mind) had made it up.

“Because if it was,” Dean continued, tripping over his words in his haste to get to the end of the sentence, “I’m sorry. I know that I’m not the easiest to get along with. I know I’m not the greatest—”

“Don’t,” Cas interrupted him, his voice quiet but firm. “Don’t say that, Dean. You make things better. For Sam, for Charlie, for everyone – for me.” Cas whispered the last bit, his voice failing him as though his body refused to say out loud what he’d always known. “You don’t make me uncomfortable.”

Dean nodded, still refusing to look at Cas. The silence settled around them again, but this time it was Cas who broke it.

“There is something, though.” Dean almost pulled his hand back when he heard Cas speak, but Cas turned his hand to grab Dean’s wrist. “Nothing you did wrong. I --- it’s selfish of me to tell you this.”

Neither man spoke, Cas trying to find the right words and Dean afraid to break whatever spell was over them.

“Sometimes I can’t stop thinking.” Cas finally gathered the courage to continue. “I wonder what will happen if I say something, do something and all I can do is imagine, over and over again what consequences an action, a word, a decision will have. Sometimes it’s something small, like when I want to ask Sam to go for a run with me, or when you ask me what I want for dinner. But sometimes it’s bigger.”

Cas paused again and watched as his thumb began stroking Dean’s wrist.

“Sometimes I think about what would happen if I told you how I feel.”

Dean tensed and Cas let go of his wrist, allowing him to remove his arm, allowing him the freedom to leave, but instead of moving away, he shifted his arm only far enough to rest his fingers on Cas’s palm.

“I imagine telling you and watching your face fall, watching you close yourself off from me. I imagine having to leave again, having to find a new home, a new family. I don’t like thinking these things, but I can’t stop. It helps to focus on something else, so…” Cas trailed off and looked at Dean’s fingers on his palm. He curled his fingers into Dean’s and savoured the feeling of holding his hand.

“I wouldn’t do that, Cas. I wouldn’t tell you to leave, and I wouldn’t be mad.”

“But would you be happy?” When Dean didn’t answer, Cas continued, “I’m sorry, that was unfair.”

Dean laughed quietly, “Yeah, a little.”

Cas smiled at Dean, a little sadly. “That’s the human condition, isn’t it – everything’s a little unfair.”

Dean returned his smile. “You’re doing alright with it, though, Cas. You make a good human.”

“Thank you. That—that means a lot, coming from you.”

Dean scoffed and Cas tightened his fingers around Dean’s hand in response.

“It means everything coming from you, Dean.” Cas took a deep breath, ready, finally, to say what he’d been imagining saying for years. “It means everything because _you_ mean everything to me.”

Dean let out a shaky breath, and Cas looked up at him. “You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” Dean whispered.

“You make me happy.”

“Yeah?”

“You make me happy and I don’t want to live without you, Dean. Do you--”

“Yes.”

Cas laughed, in spite of his nerves, in spite of the heart in his throat or the roiling in his stomach. “You don’t even know what I was going to ask, Dean.”

Dean raised his eyebrows, silently encouraging Cas to ask the question.

“Do you feel the same?”  
  
“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. That’s good.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I kinda lost steam at the end (that's how it usually happens) -- I think this fic needed to be a little longer, but I just wanted to get to the bit where they smile.
> 
> come talk to me at moarheadcanons.tumblr.com


End file.
